You're Mine
by cyrilandshirley
Summary: A short Brendan POV after Ste asks him to go away with him.


**You're mine**

You're mine.

I can feel you're mine as your body relaxes around me, tight and dark, clutching me, wanting me. As one arms goes round my neck, the other reaching for my backside. As your head goes back into the pillow as I find my way back in. As your mouth falls open, and you half say my name.

_Bren…_

The sweat in the crook of your shoulder is salty on my mouth. My body throbs, inside yours. Our blood beats, together. I can feel your heart, thumping in your chest, against mine. Your heart, your body, they belong to me. I think you just needed reminding.

You've always been mine. From the first minute I clapped eyes on you, standing up to me, showing me your brass neck, cocking an eyebrow at me, sticking your chin out, cheeky as fuck, unscared. It took me a while to make it official, but yeah, you were mine from the get go. You are more mine every time I touch you, running a finger from your throat down to your belly, every time I hold you, strip off your clothes and push you down onto the bed, the sofa. Kiss you. Fuck you.

You are my territory, my patch. I've marked you out as mine, and I'll keep marking you as mine, with my teeth, and my tongue, and the grip of my fingers, and the push of my pelvis against yours, finding out just how far you will let me go. And you never hold back on me. You're all mine. All of you. Your eyes, with those long fucking lashes, and your nose, that tilts up at the end, and your sulky mouth, that opens and gives way, soft and warm, and your thin little arms, and shoulders, and your chest with those two pink brown nubs of nipples, and your skinny ribs that I can practically count with my fingertips, and your narrow hips, and your perfect fucking dick in its soft hair, and your balls and your legs, down to the soles of your feet, that are sensitive, and rub against the back of my calves.

And you don't get to end this. You're mine until I say you're not. I make that decision. Though sometimes I think now you'll always be mine. It doesn't usually last, this. It can't. But things have happened. I have done something for you, that connects us forever. Something that marks you out for me. And maybe me for you.

You can't be anyone else's. You just can't. I don't mean those girls, they don't count. The first one maybe, the mother of your kids, she counts, I can see she keeps you close. But the others. I never bothered too much about that. They couldn't own you like I do. And I do own you. I own you completely. I have invested a lot in you.

But this is different to those girls. A whole different ballgame. These aren't my rules. And I always make the rules.

I saw you, through the window. With him. And I followed you in.

I knew things were sliding. That you seemed to be always slipping out of my hands recently. But I'd always been able to bring you back before. That time, when you came to the club, and I didn't pay attention, when I had things on my mind, that was stupid. I should have listened. You'd just lost a child, and I should've been looking out for you, but I took my eye off the ball. There is always all this … stuff. Crowding in. Business. Things needing my attention. Other people. Everyone wanting a piece of me. But I never meant that it was over with you. I never meant that. That's not what I want. I just said it wasn't my problem.

_It never is_, you said back to me, your face full of disappointment. And you walked away, angry.

You do this. You keep offering me this life, this fucking life with you that I can't have, but for a second, I can see it, and it gets harder and harder to turn that fucking offer down. But I can't take it, either. I never will. I can't. It's insane. You're insane, for offering it to me in the first place. Live my life as a queer? Both of us, queers? I should kick you out, throw you down the fucking stairs. So why the fuck don't I? Why did I stand there, my mouth an inch from yours, and know that I wanted to kiss you and make it all allright? Why did I want to slam my hand into the solid wall when you walked away?

I'll get you back, I thought. Take my time, let the dust settle, give us both a breather, no hurry. All the best things take a bit of time, right? But there was something I didn't count on. I didn't realise there was someone else on the scene, sniffing around. Where the fuck did he come from? He came right up out of nowhere. I didn't reckon on that. But there he is, Nowhere Man. Sitting next to you. Getting close. Making you grin, a bit embarrassed, but a bit flattered. Asking you for a drink.

I said nothing. Did nothing. But I could hardly hear for the banging of alarm bells in my head. Every muscle in my body felt like it was contracting into a ball. I could barely look at you.

I'm the one who buys the drinks. I'm the one who makes you feel flattered. I'm the one who makes you blush, the way your whole body is blushing now, hot, glistening with sweat, your chest almost slippery, your legs clasping around my waist.

You walked right past me and I could smell you, the glow of you. Perspiration. Desire. Confusion. Abandonment. You have always smelled damn good.

He can offer to buy you a drink, that other guy, that nobody, that gay kid. But only I know what you taste like. All of you. Inside and out.

I sat, on my own, in the club. I set that coin spinning. I watched it flip flip flip, first one side, then another, followed it with my eyes. I started that, that spinning, that dancing. But now I couldn't control the outcome, didn't know what side it would come down on. Heads or tails. Or hearts. I watched it, flipping, unsure. I waited.

And there you were. I slammed my hand down over it. It lay flat on the table, vibrating against my palm. It hurt, a bit, but I did it myself and I can take quite a bit when it's handed out to me. Always have. I had to. Nothing like a bit of pain to make you man up.

It wasn't over, you said. For either of us. Though when you think you earned the right to tell me what was over, I have no fucking clue. But you seemed to be breaking.

_I'm sick of all this. Ple … Just once and for all, do you want to be with me, or not?_

I tried kissing you. That was all I had. It has to say the things I can't say. It's all I could give you. But it wasn't enough. Not this time. The air crackled with a sense of something final.

I know you want a happy ending. _We could be happy if we wanted_, you said, as you threw yourself at me and I tried to hold you at bay.

I don't even know what you mean. You want me to take hold of your hand, walk right out of here with you, into some fucking sunset? Well I can grab hold of your hands, and pin them to the bed as I lose myself in you, that's what you're getting, that's what I can give you. Happy endings are for show. Or in kids' books. Fairy tales. There are no princes and princesses here. The prince and the prince don't get to walk down the aisle and into a happy ever after. You don't get to just reach out and take what you want by slaying the dragon. You find a way to live with it, in its cave, smouldering the heart out of you, until it's black in there. Burnt out. There is no other way. But you don't see it.

We had to do it your way, you said. We had to leave to be together. Final offer.

Final offer? I didn't know this was a negotiation. I thought I owned you, outright. I thought this was what this was all about, lying here, me up to my balls in you, buried, you moaning in that way that goes straight to my cock, your eyes glazing with desire. And yet it's your hands that are in my hair, pulling me down into another kiss, and I give you what you want, because I sometimes get this uncanny feeling that what you want is what I want as well. And then I start to take what I want from you, almost hard, almost brutal, and feel it ricochet through your body. I'm the one who puts you in motion and keeps you spinning. And I'm the one who stops it, with my hand.

But you'd had this idea, that we had to leave. And I knew you meant it. When the fuck did this start being about you? But maybe it always has been, more than I knew. Maybe it was the fucking cheek of you that caught my attention in the first place. You never did back down. And I knew you wouldn't now, not the way you were looking at me, not the way your voice was breaking. I knew if I didn't say yes, you would walk out that door, and you'd go to him, and that would be it.

I felt everything falling apart. That was the moment, when I would have hurt you before. That was always the best way of keeping everything under control. I don't know when it happened that I couldn't hurt you anymore. Maybe when I knew that plenty of other people had hurt you, that you needed someone who never would. I couldn't hurt you now.

I needed to buy some time, to figure out what to do.

I looked at you, and I tried to smile. It felt tight. I nodded. "OK," I said.

You looked at me, in disbelief. "You will?" I guess you were expecting that slap. Or for me to turn you away. You were braced for the end.

I nodded again. "OK." My teeth felt close together. I tried to relax my jaw. Lying to you doesn't come easy.

" … OK," you said, your face starting to be full of amazement.

There was a strange pause.

"Come back to the flat," I said. "We'll talk. Cheryl's away."

I took you back, and as soon as we were inside, I pinned you against the door, one hand either side of your head. You were still talking, excited, a bit amazed. You are always … talking. It never stops. I hear your voice in my head all the time, even when you're not with me.

"Where will we go?" you said. "Manchester?"

As if anything would be better in Manchester. I could have laughed at how small your world was. I could walk there in a day. As if we would be any less queer if we were together there. I can't believe you really think this would make a difference.

"Manchester's good," I said, kissing you and feeling you responding.

"Cos … if we went to Manchester, I could still see the kids," you said, "when they're with Mike."

"Yeah," I said, kissing you softly again, wanting you to be quiet.

"Or … we could go to Ireland for a bit, you know," you said, "and then you could see your kids more. You could show me Belfast …"

You looked excited, but it faded as you saw the expression in my eyes. Belfast. Everyone knows me there. My kids are there.

" … or, there's other places," you said.

"Sure," I murmured, close to your mouth, touching it with mine, "there's other places." And I kissed you, and felt you start to give in to it.

Do you really think this? That we can be together, like that? But it's the funniest damn thing, how when you start talking about it, I could almost believe it. I can't take you to Ireland, but for a moment, I can almost see you on the ferry with me, on the deck, leaning over the railings, watching us cut through the water, smiling like a million fucking fireworks, and the wind lifting up your hair.

I almost pulled you to the bedroom, upstairs. And I undressed you. And I laid you down.

"Do you really want to be with me?" you asked me, as if you still couldn't believe it, as I kissed down your body and spread your legs.

I put my hand around your cock and pumped it until it was stiff, watching you whimper. "I guess I must do," I said, as I put my mouth around it.

And now here we are, and I'm back in the driver's seat. In control. Inside you, feeling your cock stiff against my belly, your hands clutching at my shoulders, sounds of desperation, desire and happiness coming out of your mouth. And I can keep this up all night, if I have to, as we exchange saliva, and sweat, and spunk, until you can't remember where you end and I begin. This is what it means, to be together. Nothing else. It can't be.

You're mine again. Completely. I am in control of your every breath, and heartbeat. I feel you pressing against me, dancing to my rhythm.

So why when I look into your face do I feel like you could put your hand right into my chest and squeeze the very life out of me, if I gave you the chance? I never thought that the terms of this deal might be that you get to own a part of me.

I push home, and pick up the pace, just a little bit harder than I meant. You whimper as my hand closes around your cock, and I start to bring you with me, wherever it is that we're going. But even then, I feel your hand wrap around mine. Looks like wherever we're going tonight, and whenever we're coming, we are going there together after all.

I hear your voice, crying out, and I feel you come, wet, over my hand, and my mind goes blank, and I give it all up to you, this struggle. My mouth is buried in the side of your hair. I don't know why, but you smell of the sea and the wind. You are my escape, my ticket out. You are offering me something I can't take. But my hand reaches out for you anyway.

I'm not finished with you yet. We are not done here. There's the rest of the night. Tomorrow, I will sort it. I'll find a way to keep you here, where I need you. Want you, I should say. But for tonight, it's mission accomplished. Because you're here, and you want me, and you're happy, and it's all because I let you have your happy ending, even if it's for one night. My hand strokes your hair, and I hear you speak, softly.

_I love you_, you say.

And you're mine, again.


End file.
